


Watching

by ilcuoreardendo



Series: Tales from the Isles [13]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Attraction, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grief/Mourning, Hidden lust, Low Chaos Corvo Attano, M/M, Martin is not the best Overseer, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Interest, POV Corvo Attano, Silence, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: He knew Martin had seen the mark on his hand. He hadn’t tried to hide it. But that wasn't what Martin was looking at. Or not all that he was looking at.





	Watching

**Author's Note:**

> A possible in-game scene. I think the prompt was "being watched." (I had to correct the tenses because this piece started off differently, so if there are still a few muck ups, that's all on me.)

* * *

The Overseer—Martin—was watching him again.  

He knew Martin had seen the mark on his hand. He hadn’t tried to hide it. But that wasn't what Martin was looking at. Or not all that he was looking at. Corvo could feel the heavy gaze on his face, his body. He finished his short conversation with Piero—the inventor had a knack for anticipating his needs—and turned to head to his room.

Martin caught him on the way to the wine cellar. “Corvo, I don’t think I ever properly expressed my thanks for getting me out of the stocks.”

Corvo shook his head, raised his hand.

“Not much given to talking, are you?”

Corvo stared. What was he to say? That words, which before came so easy to him, had been pointless during the six months he’d spent at the executioner’s tender mercies? That while he spoke when needed—and more often to a special few—so often, the grief that he’d never gotten a chance to feel welled up inside his throat and if he opened his mouth in those moments, he might scream?

Slowly, Corvo shook his head and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.

Martin chuckled softly. “Yet, so eloquent in your silence. Well, on a day you might wish to unburden yourself, I would be privileged if you’d share your thoughts with me. I admit, I’m particularly curious about this,” he said, grasping Corvo’s left hand and pulling it toward him.

The mark stood out stark against his skin. Martin’s naked—didn’t Overseers always wear gloves?— thumb traced over the curve of it and a static-charge ripped through Corvo’s arm and up his spine, as if the mark itself decried the touch.

Taking his hand back, Corvo nodded curtly and brushed past Martin, considering, for a moment, transporting himself to the roof of the wine cellar to reach his rooms faster, but settling for taking the stairs inside.

If he’d looked back, he would have seen a look of careful consideration on Martin’s face as the Overseer rubbed thumb to forefinger, as if savoring the memory of Corvo’s skin.


End file.
